


Dilemma

by Deeranger



Category: James McAvoy - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Bromance, Community: mcfassy, Doom, Fanart, M/M, One Shot, Poor Michael, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Michael, Slave Trade, Sweet, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a gloomy, post-apocalyptic future, Michael has to do something awful to save both himself and James from certain doom… But can he?<br/>(A photo manipulation of mine accompanies this fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dilemma

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/149965689@N04/34859663924/in/dateposted/)

 

 “Next!” a voice boomed and he felt Michael pushing him resolutely, but gently, up the few stairs to the podium. He felt feverish and as he climbed the stairs made of old pallets his glance darted around, scanning the many faces in crowd. No one looked familiar. James looked at the graffiti sprayed wall in front of him and he realized that he had already cleared the stairs and was now standing on the podium itself. Taking a deep breath he turned to face the crowd when Michael put a hand on his shoulder, guiding him. Michael looked at him with a warm but apologetic stare before glancing down on the cheering crowd of people. It almost looked like he was having second thoughts. James swallowed. He had agreed to this. They both had. It was the only way. Michael cleared his throat. 

 

"One male up for one week's rent..." he began, his voice ringing out over the croud loudly. Michael corrected his tie a little. He felt uncomfortable in the suit he had found in an abandoned apartment, but it had felt like a good idea to look as formal and professional as possible. Now he was questioning his own judgment.

 

"5 foot 7 inches tall, 148 pounds..." he said and let go of the annoying tie. As he was presenting James to the curious onlookers he gestured towards him with his hands. Casting down his glance James felt himself shudder slightly, his cheeks burning with shame.

 

"37 years of age, takes orders well..." Michael continued and clapped James on the shoulder three times, the sound resonating against the brick wall behind them. The crowd of people in front of the podium seemed to be growing denser, countless eyes examining James as he stood there only wearing his jeans. He felt utterly naked and exposed. Gritting his teeth a little he forced himself to look up, settling his glance on the ragged skyline with the skyscraper ruins. Michael nodded at him and his lifted up his arms obediently, showing off his torso. The cheering grew a little louder when a woman in a black, woolen robe elbowed her way through the crowd towards the podium.

 

"Any STDs?!" she yelled and laughter exploded amongst the onlookers. Michael's expression darkened a little by her outburst, but he merely shook his head at the smirking woman.

 

"He's perfectly healthy, madam," he said and continued. James clenched his jaw muscles in frustration and he couldn't help but glance at Michael, who seemed to be almost unaffected by this whole, bizarre situation.

 

"He's good at finding food and he's stronger than he looks - very helpful with all and any kind of labour..." Michael went on, his hand resting on the small of James' back almost as if he was afraid that he was going to make a run for it. 

 

"Any good in bed?!" the woman in black yelled and yet another burst of laughter came from the crowd. James thought he saw a small twitch by Michael's right eye, but he wasn't sure. Ignoring the woman's remark he went on.

 

"He is guaranteed to follow orders and he..." he said, but he was interrupted by the robed woman who was now standing just by the edge of the podium.

 

"I bid seven cans of fruit!" she roared, earning a small gasp from the surrounding people. An almost shocked look appeared on Michael's face. James looked at him nervously out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't determine if his expression was an indication of the surprisingly high bid or if it was the thought of James having to share a bed with someone else. For a moment it seemed like Michael was frozen to the spot and the guards standing by the pallet staircase carefully glanced at him while keeping an eye on the crowd which was starting to grow a little restless.

 

"I said seven cans of fruit, are you deaf!?" the woman yelled angrily. Michael blinked a few times. He couldn't believe the bid. It was more than enough to cover what he owed and then some. He would be debt free. And he and James wouldn't be kicked out of the shelter, risking life and limbs once darkness fell... except James wouldn't be there for the next week. He would be somewhere else... with her in bed. Having to obey her every order. This was a scenario he hadn’t expected. Clearing his throat Michael licked his lips.

 

"He... He is not a sex slave, madam," he suddenly heard himself say hoarsely. Silence immediately fell and the crowd seemed to freeze. The woman looked baffled for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed in obvious anger.

 

"I can do with my purchase what I please...!" she hissed, droplets of saliva spraying from her mouth as she spoke.

 

"Read the rules, dumbass! As long as the item is not damaged, seller has no say in the use of said item!" she snarled and pointed at the rule set scribbled down with children's chalk on an old blackboard leaning against a dumpster. A roar escaped the excited crowd and Michael looked at a guard who was making his way towards him with a raised hand, pointing at the blackboard. Panicky Michael turned towards the guard who was shaking his head.

 

"The bidder is right, mister. Get on with it," he said in an annoyed tone of voice and turned on his heels, headed for the stairs. James felt his heart sink when he saw the look on Michael's face. He looked utterly crushed. Right at that moment James felt more sorry for Michael than for himself...

 

"Seven cans!" the woman shrieked and hammered her fist into the wooden podium for emphasis. Demanding she glared at Michael and crossed her arms. Swallowing Michael felt how cold droplets of sweat were suddenly imerging on his forehead. This was a dilemma too unbearable to be in and he looked over at James. The younger man looked defeated, yet he tried hard to send Michael his most reassuring smile. The color had drained from his face, but he still urged Michael on. Shuddering Michael bit his lip. He then faced the yelling crowd.

 

"Really, no bids?" he suddenly yelled out, inquiringly lifting his arms in the air a little. A confused mumbling spread through the crowd and the guards turned their head and looked at him with cocked eyebrows.

 

"Hey!! Seven cans right here, you idiot!" the woman in black growled, grabbing a hold of the edge of the podium as if she was going to try and crush it with her bare hands. Michael didn't even look at her.

 

"No bids, people...? Anyone?" Michael yelled and this time there was a hint of amusement in his voice. James was looking at him in complete confusion along with the guards and crowd. Had he gone mad? Uneasy James looked at the crowd which was starting to look dangerously agitated and impatient.

 

"Seven fucking cans, asshole!!" the woman yelled from the top of her lungs. Michael shrugged and turned to face James. There was a slight smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.

 

"Okay, well, you're missing out...!" Michael yelled and walked up to James, putting his hand on the small of his back again. James looked at him in bewilderment.

 

"What are you...?" he began, but Michael shushed him quietly. The roaring from the crowd was growing louder and nervously James looked a guard who suddenly placed a broad hand on Michael's shoulder. Turning around to face him Michael completely ignored the woman's furious screams in the background. The guard narrowed his eyes.

 

"Mister, what do you think you're doing?!" he asked angrily. In front of them the remaining guards were holding back the aggravated crowd who were cheering obscenities and throwing litter onto the podium. Michael looked at the guard.

 

"I'm not selling," he said and started to guide James towards the pallet stairs. The guard's face turned a deep red.

 

"You have to, you put the item up for auction!" he spat. Michael turned slightly and sent him a piercing glance.

 

"If the desired bid isn't achieved seller has the right not to sell," he said and pointed towards the blackboard. For a moment the guard looked puzzled. Then he let out an angry grunt.

 

"You got offered seven cans....!" he began, but Michael cut him off.

 

"Well, I wanted thirty," he said with a smirk and turned his back to the baffled guard as he lead James down the stairs and past the other guards who were pushing at the angry crowd to hold them back. Pieces of junk and garbage were raining down on them as they made their way past them. Somewhere in the background they could hear the woman yelling and complaining loudly. The guard still on the podium shook his fist at them.

 

"You're not getting your auction deposit back! And I’ll fine you!" he yelled and Michael let out a desperate chuckle as he ducked, barely avoiding a rock whistling past his head.

 

"Another trophy for my debt collection then," he said under his breath and pulled James with him around a corner and down an alley, away from the angry mob. Half running and half walking they quickly managed to shake off the few auction participants who had been following them. Michael was seemingly headed for the shelter and James slowed down.

 

"We can't go back there. You know that, right?" he asked in a trembly voice, his breath forming a thin mist in the cold air. Michael smiled halfheartedly.

 

"I know," he said and let out a sigh, the mist from it mixing with James' in the orange light rays of the sunset. Looking at the horizon James shook his head while rubbing his arms. He was freezing.

 

"Why did you do it?" he asked, looking at Michael with concerned, blue eyes. Michael closed his eyes for a moment as he exhaled deeply.

 

"Because I couldn't, James. I hope you can forgive me for this..." he said lowly and opened his eyes to look at the sunset. It would get dark soon and they had no where to go. They both knew it. They'd have to try to make it on their own, regardless of the horrors appearing in the ruins at night.

 

"You're a stupid man, Michael," James said softly as he lifted up his hand and caressed the side of the taller man's face.

 

"But I'm grateful for what you did," he said and wiped at the tears starting to form in Michael's eyes. In sync they pulled each other into a tight hug and for a moment they didn't care that the sun was setting.

 

"We have to fend for ourselves now," Michael whispered in James' ear. The hug tightened even more. Something wet and warm trickled down James' back. Tears. He carefully broke the hug and looked back up at Michael.

 

"Don't cry... You did the right thing," he said and smiled at him with worry in his crystal blue glance.

 

"I've probably killed us both," Michael said and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve. He then quickly took off his dark blue blazer and draped it over James’ trembling shoulders.

 

"Maybe. But I still love you," James said and grabbed Michael's hand, squeezing it. It felt warm and strong. A smile started to spread in the corners of his mouth.

 

"I love you too," Michael said and squeezed James' hand back. For a moment there was silence and they just looked at each other. The only sound was the last evening screams from the seagulls as dusk set in. James leaned in for a kiss and Michael lowered his head slightly as their lips met. In the same second the sun slipped under the horizon in a short burst of orange light.

 

 


End file.
